Uncomfortable
by Dreamfall
Summary: When Ezra greets Vin upon his return from patrol, they're both startled to discover that the others neither see nor hear the returned tracker.


**Uncomfortable  
><strong>**By:** Dreamfall  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Very slightly AU to allow for the premise  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> As one might assume of a work posted on a site dedicated to fanfiction, the characters and basic premise of The Magnificent Seven are not mine.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: Written about a year ago and never published (partly due to the lack of a title). Nothing too big, but when I stumbled across it again I remembered that I rather liked it and figured it may as well go up. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>Ezra glanced up as the saloon door swung open and a pair of uninteresting locals came in and headed straight for the bar. He sighed, and returned his attention to his cards, knowing they would add no sport to his evening. Then he glanced back up as a shadow continued to block part of the door. Vin was standing just inside the swinging doors, squinting a bit in the relative darkness of the saloon. Ezra raised a hand in greeting. "Mr. Tanner, you have abbreviated your patrol! We had not expected you for some hours yet, I believe."<p>

Vin's eyes caught his, and the tracker frowned and shook his head a little, as though confused. "Yeah," he muttered.

The others glanced from him to Vin and back. Then Chris, snarled, "He ain't there, Ezra."

Ezra blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Vin ain't there. What're you playing at?"

"Me?" he demanded. "You're denying the obvious presence of one of our compatriots, and you accuse _me_ of playing some game? Other than the cards in my hand, I have no games going at the moment." He noticed the others staring at him in some blend of confusion and irritation.

"But—but he ain't there, Ez," JD said, looking back at Vin as though to prove it. "Ain't no one there. Not since Ned and Pots came in a sec ago, anyhow."

Ezra glanced back at Vin, who was now approaching, still frowning in confusion. He looked back at the others, taking in the apparent levels to which their acting prowess had progressed in recent days. He wouldn't have thought them able, to be honest. "Ah," he said. "Very humorous, I'm sure. But you shall not so easily deceive me."

"Ezra," Josiah said, pushing back from the table slightly and looking at him very, very steadily. "Nobody's trying to deceive you. Vin's not back yet. There's nobody standing between us and the door."

He felt a chill tingle up his spine, looking from one of them to the next. None of them were this good at acting. He should know. He had undertaken to improve their abilities and had not managed anything quite so impressive as of yet. And, more and more, their confusion and vexation were giving way to worry. For him. "I see," he said, eyes flickering to Vin once more and then back, steadily. "It must have been a trick of the light."

"Ezra?" Vin asked softly.

None of the others showed the slightest hint of having heard.

He rose suddenly, meeting Vin's eyes and flicking his to one side slightly in instruction before turning smoothly to the others. "I'd forgotten I had some business with Mrs. Potter. Pray forgive my departure before the next hand."

He swept up his winnings and moved easily away, deliberately calm and relaxed though he felt their eyes locked on him and Vin followed obediently at his shoulder until he was outside, then said, "What's goin' on, Ezra?"

"I shall be damned if I can answer that question," Ezra replied shortly, tipping his hat to a fellow who cast him a startled look before ignoring him and hurrying past. "What can you tell me? Always assuming that I have not simply gone mad. I do not believe myself prone to flights of fancy—and if I were, having you before me, invisible to everyone else is not one I should expect to indulge in."

"Be a funny sort of crazy," Vin agreed. "Can't tell you much. Don't remember getting back from patrol. Just walkin' into the saloon an' you greetin' me. Then th'others not seemin' to see me." He scowled. "If this is a prank o' JD's, I'm gonna kill him."

"I could imagine them pulling such a tasteless jest on me, perhaps," Ezra said slowly. "But not on you. Unless, of course, you're in on it."

"Ain't in on nothin'," Vin said. "Chris didn't even look at me! Looked right through me like I weren't there!"

And there was pain enough in that statement to assure Ezra that if there were, indeed, some extraordinarily poor joke behind all of this, Vin wasn't in on it. And he truly couldn't imagine Chris taking part in such a jest—especially not one that caused Vin that kind of pain. He nodded. "Well then—"

"How come you're talkin' to yerself, Mr. Standish?"

He looked down at the piping voice and saw Billy staring up at him in childlike curiosity. "I am simply arranging my thoughts, Billy. Now that they are fully sorted, I beg your pardon, I have some errands to run." Nodding at the boy with a polite smile, he crossed the street and headed to Mrs. Potter's store. He had nothing in mind, but there were always essentials it was worth picking up, and it wouldn't do to be obvious about not doing as he'd said he was going to.

"Ain't just them," Vin commented. "He didn't see me neither."

"I noticed that," Ezra agreed lips barely moving. He opened Mrs. Potter's door and stepped through, holding it a moment and then releasing it for Vin to catch—then spinning at the startled oath in time to see Vin, hand outstretched, staring in shock as the door closed. Through him.

"Something wrong, Mr. Standish?"

"Ah, no," he managed, eyes locked on Vin, who was staring back in matching shock. "Not at all," he finished, turning back. "I am in need of shaving powder, however. And my blue jacket has lost a button—I believe you had some more of the same style?"

"I do," she said happily. "Have three left—you'll just want the one? Did you bring the jacket? I'd be glad to sew it on for you."

"No need," he said with a smile. "Thank you for your accommodation, but I'll merely take the button for now. And the shaving powder, please."

She passed both over, ringing him out, and he accepted them with the best smile he could manage, and then retreated out of the store, Vin at his shoulder. He ignored the eyes of his companions on him as he passed through the saloon, up the stairs, and into his room. Vin hesitated in the hallway, and Ezra motioned him impatiently in. "Come, Mr. Tanner, I would prefer not to hold discourse in the public hall, if you wouldn't mind. I believe enough speculation into this apparent new habit of talking to myself has arisen without encouraging it further."

Vin nodded, and stepped into his room, glancing about as Ezra closed the door firmly behind him and locked it before turning to his companion.

He took a breath, clenching his jaw, and then blew it out. "Very well," he said. "Would you consider it intolerably presumptuous for me to touch you, Mr. Tanner?"

"Seein's how th' door couldn't, wouldn't mind seein' if you can," Vin replied, voice strained.

Ezra nodded, reached out, and placed a hand on Vin's shoulder. Or attempted to. His fingers passed down as though there were nothing there but air, and he felt an atavistic shudder crawl up his spine as he backed up until his back hit the wall, breathing hard and fast.

Vin looked equally upset, backing up the other way—through the wall and back out into the hall.

"Vin?" Ezra called softly, forcing his voice to a tone approaching normal. "Do come back."

After a moment, his incorporeal companion passed back through the wall and stopped in front of him, arms folded defensively over his chest, expression tight.

"So," Ezra said slowly. "Either I am losing my mind and you are a figment of my imagination—"

Vin snorted. "If anyone's a dream, it's you," he said. "I'd know if'n I was someone else's dream."

"We must agree to differ there," Ezra stated. "So I shall rephrase. Either all of this is the delusion of an unwell mind, or you are invisible and inaudible to everyone but me, and intangible to everyone _including_ me."

Vin nodded.

"The state it most closely seems to resemble," Ezra said slowly, "is, er, that of a ghost."

"Ain't dead," Vin pointed out.

Ezra hesitated. "Are you quite sure of that?" he asked diffidently.

Vin started to snap—then paused.

"I ask because you do seem to show all the earmarks of being a specter," Ezra said softly. "Could you, perhaps, try again to recall the specifics of your patrol and ensuing return to town?"

His companion nodded, swallowing heavily. "Rode out after noon," he said. "Reckon I remember stoppin' by Nettie's. Had some cobbler and rode on. Went by Royal's place, and exchange a couple words with some of his boys. No problem, just them lettin' me know more'n usual'd be in town this weekend, on account of the foreman's back on 'is feet and an' givin' some extra free time as payment for the last six weeks."

Ezra nodded his understanding, but didn't speak.

"Rode on," Vin said slowly.

"Yes?" Ezra prompted.

"I—I don't remember, Ez. Rode half an hour on, remember goin' down th'edge of the flats and ridin' 'long the edge a time. An' then—then I was walkin' into the saloon an' you were bein' friendly while everyone else was ignorin' me."

Ezra nodded. "I think, Mr. Tanner, that we should, perhaps, retrace your steps." He removed his trail coat from his closet and pulled it on, stepping back out into the hall and closing and locking the door behind him.

"Going somewhere, Ezra?" Chris asked, as the gambler crossed the floor.

Ezra shrugged. "Since the day has provided no interest at the tables, I thought I'd ride out a bit," he said.

"Headin' after Vin?"

Carefully not looking at the man who stood—sort of—beside him, Ezra raised his shoulders in another shrug. "Maybe," he said, noncommittally.

"Maybe I'll join ya," Larabee replied, rising to his feet.

"I have no particular wish for company this evening," Ezra stated.

"I'll try not ta talk too much," Chris answered tightly.

"Mr. Larabee—"

"Y'may as well settle, Ezra," Vin said behind him. "He ain't gonna back off now."

Ezra sighed, turned away, and left the saloon, not seeing the glances the others exchanged behind his back as Chris followed—and then the others fell in behind them.

He smiled at Chaucer as his horse greeted him, but was rather perfunctory in his own greeting, efficiently saddling the gelding with care but without his usual words and caresses. Vin saddled Peso as well, and given that nobody seemed to notice floating gear or the unexpected presence of Vin's horse, Ezra assumed that they, too, were incorporeal. He didn't comment on their group having grown, though his lips tightened a little further.

"Vin went east," Chris commented, "Or he'd be comin' from th'west if we were meetin' him on his way back in."

"I didn't say I was riding after Mr. Tanner," Ezra pointed out, turning a bit more northerly as Vin led him towards the last bit of his patrol he recalled. "You're welcome to take a different path if our goals differ."

"And what goal, exactly, are you following?"

"I am simply riding," Ezra said.

"Ezra—"

"You mentioned not talking, earlier, didn't you? If you are in a loquacious temper, I'd prefer you take another route—as stated, I have no real interest in company this evening."

"And I got no real interests in your interests," Chris snarled back. "What th'hell's goin' on, Ezra?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said with absolutely honesty, encouraging Chaucer to stretch his pace a little further to increase his speed.

"Best leave 'im be," he heard Buck recommend Chris. "No arguin' with him when he gets like this. Reckon we all've had bad feelin's a time or two that needed followin'. May's well just follow 'im and hope it's indigestion."

He ignored them as they chatted among themselves, keeping his own attention firmly on the trail in front of him and the man leading him down it. Uncomfortably aware of the lack of prints before him despite the soft dust of the day.

Vin paused, and Ezra pulled Chaucer up, waiting.

"Now what—"

Ezra waved off the gunslinger and waited expectantly for Vin, who nodded.

"I remember comin' through here. "And—yeah. There's my track," he said, pointing.

Following the line of the finger, Ezra just made out a partial hoof print, and nodded his agreement. "Onwards, then," he murmured.

"I remember roundin' these rocks," Vin said slowly, starting forward again. "'Least—I remember startin' to."

Taking a breath, worried what he'd find, Ezra nudged Chaucer forward, taking perhaps thirty strides before he pulled his mount up swearing.

"Well hell," Vin muttered. "Guess I _am _a ghost."

"Don't know that yet," Ezra said sharply, taking in the torn up ground and the blood. "There's no body."

Vin looked at him doubtfully. "Lotta blood for not bein' dead."

"Don't know what?" Larabee snapped. "Shit, this looks bad. Must be bounty hunters, if they took 'im."

"No sign of struggle from me," Vin said, voice soft. "Just from Peso. I went down hard—here. Five men—no four an' a pack horse-came up, Peso kicked up a fuss, then took off t'wards town. They dragged me up on th' pack horse and set off … that way."

Ezra started in the indicated direction.

"Dammit, Standish, where you goin' now?" Larabee snarled.

"You a tracker, now?" Buck asked.

"We all have hidden talents," Ezra stated, turning back towards Vin, who was still staring down at the blood. "You coming?" he demanded.

Vin nodded, reluctantly, and swung back up onto not-Peso, starting down the trail.

"How'd you even know this was where to cut across the patrol route?" JD asked.

Ezra shrugged and started riding.

"We ain't just followin' him, are we, Chris?" Nathan demanded. "He can't lead us right—can he?"

Chris's voice was tight through gritted teeth. "Got us this far," he said shortly. "Want some goddamn answers, though, an' that's a fact."

"Maybe Vin told 'im," Buck said.

"Ain't funny, Buck."

"Ain't laughin'. But you gotta admit it's mighty peculiar he was chattin' away with a man wasn't there just 'fore he got a yearnin' t'head out on th'trail direct t'the place that same man went down bleedin' hard."

"So you're sayin'—what—Vin's dead an' his ghost's chattin' with Ezra?" Nathan demanded, mockingly.

"There are more things on Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than dreamed of in your philosophy," Josiah intoned.

"Josiah?" JD said uncertainly. "That's Nathan—not Horatio."

Josiah chuckled. "It's a quotation, JD. About ghosts, as it happens."

"So—what? You believe Buck? That Ezra's talking to Vin's ghost?" JD asked with a shiver.

"Let's just say I'm not willing to rule the possibility out."

"_You_ think so, Chris?" JD asked.

Black-clad shoulders tensed, but Chris didn't look back from where his eyes were pinned on the gambler before him. "What I think is you should all stop yappin'," he snarled.

Uneasy silence fell, and they rode on after the gambler, who occasionally paused but never dismounted, just stared down at the ground for a few seconds or, in one case, minutes, and then started up again, sometimes adjusting his direction a little.

"Riders ahead," JD's voice suddenly cut through the silence, causing the others to look away from the gambler and into the distance to see what had attracted their attention.

"Yeah, I see the dust," Buck agreed after a minute. "Got a count, kid?"

"Looks like… well, I see three for sure, but they're all bunched up. I'm not sure."

"Four," Ezra stated, his voice empty of any intonation. "And a packhorse, bearing, amongst any other encumbrances, Mr. Tanner."

JD whistled. "You can see all that?"

"No," he said shortly. "I can't." And then he snarled, "Gawdamn!" Abruptly, he looped the reins he only occasionally used around the pommel of his saddle, loosed his weapons in their holsters, and kneed Chaucer forward into a canter.

"Dammit, Ezra, get back here, we don't know—" Chris started. And then he swore and kicked his own horse, knowing he couldn't stop the gambler, only back him up.

Ezra had more sense than this. He knew better. He was the last man among them to go racing into trouble, face to face without a single feint or trick. And yet there was Vin with his rifle out, shouting an Indian war cry as he galloped forward, and how the hell could Ezra let him go alone? He heard Vin fire, and even knowing, he was still startled when none of the men fell. Somebody always fell when Vin fired. The warcry became a wordless howl of rage and frustration as the rifle went off again and again without effect, and Ezra drew his Remington and fired himself, and this time a man did fall, clutching a red blotch on his shoulder, and the others spun, shouting and drawing weapons, firing. Ezra saw the muzzle flashes, and automatically turned to Vin, the one in danger because he was the furthest forward, the most obvious threat. Only, he realized a split second later, as pain blossomed in his chest, perhaps not when he was invisible. He hunched close to Chaucer and tried to aim for another shot, but it was always difficult on horseback and suddenly it was so damn hard to concentrate. Chaucer faltered under whatever mixed messages his weak legs were telegraphing, and Ezra found himself tumbling through the air, Vin's scream of his name louder in his ears than the shots fired by the five men behind him.

"What the hell, Ezra?" Vin demanded, suddenly squatting beside him and reaching out to apply pressure on his wound and instead falling right through him.

"Sorry," Ezra muttered, trying to get up, to turn, to _something_—

Hands pushed him back down, and for a moment he thought it was Vin, physical again, but then Nathan was shouting at him. "Lie still, y'damn fool! Let me see what you did to yerself!"

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, searching out Vin's pale face amongst the others staring down at him. "Vin?" he whispered.

"Chris an' Buck are heading over to see if he made it," JD said softly. "I sure do hope you're right about them taking him, Ezra—'cause otherwise we just shot up a bunch of folks for no reason."

He let his eyes sink back closed. "Yes?" he said. "And yet, I still wish I was wrong."

"Nathan!" the shout from the fallen party made him snap back to alertness, and he tried to rise, only to be pushed gently back down by Josiah. "Nathan! It's Vin—he's—he looks like crap, but he's not dead!"

Ezra's jaw dropped, and his eyes met Vin's, which seemed equally surprised. "He's not?" he demanded weakly.

"Praise the Lord," Josiah murmured. "Go, Nathan, we'll keep this one until you've seen who needs you more."

Nathan hesitated.

"Go!" Ezra ordered, waving a hand. "Go, go. I'm fine!"

"Yeah, you're fine all right," Nathan muttered, but he was apparently reassured enough to rise. "Don't you let him move—I'll be right back. JD, start fire, no way he'll be up to moving today. Someone'll have to go fer the wagon, but that'll wait." His continued mutterings faded as he strode away, towards Chris and Buck.

"Go look," Ezra begged Vin, "tell me what's going on."

"I can't," JD told him, "Nathan'd be awful mad if I didn't start a fire like he said."

Vin nodded solemnly and started after the healer. He returned a few minutes later looking confused. "I don't get it," he said. "They're all fussin' and movin', but there ain't nothin' there, Ezra."

Ezra sighed. "You can't see yourself," he guessed.

"What?" JD asked, startled. "I got somethin' on my face?"

"Focus on the fire, JD," Josiah told him, his eyes focused on Ezra's face. "Ezra's words are for another."

JD looked back and forth between them for a long moment, then got back to work.

Ezra's mouth tightened and he didn't say anything else for the minutes that followed until the other three rejoined them, carefully carrying Vin's still form on a stretched out blanket and laying him out beside Ezra.

Nathan was shaking his head. "I dunno," he said. "Took a glancing shot to his head, probably took him out instantly. He ain't dead, but… Head wounds are tricky. We just gotta hope he wakes up before…"

"Before?" JD prompted.

Nathan sighed. "He won't be able to eat or drink," he pointed out. "We might be able to get a little water down him, but not enough. If he don't wake up, he'll starve to death right in front of us." He shook his head a little. "Well, not starve. It'll be the dehydration."

"No it goddamn won't!" snapped Larabee. "'Cause he ain't gonna die, he's gonna wake his skinny Texan ass up and laugh at us all for worrying!" Without conscious decision, the rest of them turned to look at the still form, half-expecting him to obediently start moving.

"Not feelin' much like laughin'," Vin said, staring at them, and then at the blanket that was supposed to have his body on it. "And I don't see how I can wake up when I'm standin' right here talkin' to ya."

Ezra sank back again and closed his eyes. "Shit," he muttered succinctly.

"Oh, I ain't forgot you," Nathan said. "Rushin' in like a madman. Lucky you only got one bullet in you—and your damn shoulder out in the fall. Shoulda broke your damnfool head!"

Ezra turned his face away, unable to argue.

Despite the harsh words, the hands that resumed their work on him were as gentle as they always were. "Hope this ain't one of your favorite coats and shirts."

Ezra didn't answer, and missed the concerned exchanges of glances over his head at his failure to attempt to protect his garments from the healer's knife as the man cut them away to get a better look at the wound.

"You did good," Larabee suddenly said, voice gruff. "Finding him so fast. You did good."

Ezra snorted and didn't open his eyes. He didn't even object when he felt his flask being stolen, though he did brace himself for the likely next step and was able to clench his teeth and bite back a scream when the alcohol burnt into his wound, confining his reaction to a hard shudder.

"Easy, Ezra," Josiah whispered. "He'll make it as quick as he can."

Ezra didn't answer, didn't open his eyes, just sucked thirstily as the flask was placed to his lips, and then clenched his teeth again as there was one more splash of acid on his wound—and then the real pain started.

When he woke, night had fallen, and the firelight flickered on Buck to one side of him, and Vin to the other.

"Hey there, pard," Buck murmured. "Feelin' a little better? Want some water?"

"That," he whispered, "would be most appreciated. Vin-?"

"Right here," Vin said, a bit of anxiety in his voice.

Ezra met his eyes and nodded, seeing the worry fade, and wondered just how frightening it would be for only one person to see you and for that person to be unconscious—and for all he knew, upon waking, Ezra might be as incapable of seeing Vin as the others.

"He's about the same," Buck said. "Nathan got a bit of water down him, but… he's worried."

Ezra sighed.

"You really see him?" Buck asked, his tone unusually serious.

Ezra hesitated, but the other man didn't break the silence, just kept looking at him steadily. Finally, he nodded slightly.

Buck sighed. "Can't figure if that's good or bad," he said. "Don't s'pose you can talk him back into his body?"

Ezra shrugged. "He can't see it."

"Have you … have you seen other spirits? In the past, I mean?"

Ezra sighed. "Don't be absurd."

"Don't see what's absurd about it. Have you?"

"No of course I haven't! I didn't even believe in them before today!"

"How'd ya know you haven't?" Vin asked. "You thought I was real."

"Does he look all … wispy and glowin', like they say?" Buck said at the same time.

Ezra stared at Vin, tan skin washed red by the firelight, clothes threadbare, hair messy, face tense. "No," he said. "He looks just like always."

"How d'ya know, then? Maybe you've seen dozens of ghosts," Buck pointed out, sounding rather intrigued by the prospect.

"Good Lord, are you both trying to make me question the vitality of everyone I pass on the streets?" Ezra demanded, a shiver running through him.

"I ain't a ghost!" Vin shouted.

Ezra winced at the volume. "And, as he says, he isn't a ghost—he's still alive, so he can't be."

Buck froze for an instant. "He's right here? Now?"

"Where else am I supposed to be?" Vin demanded.

"Certainly he is," Ezra said. "Right across from you."

Buck looked up, staring at the air across from him as though trying to make out a form in it. "I'm sorry if I've seemed to ignore you," he finally said to the air somewhere to the side of Vin's left shoulder. "No offense."

"None taken."

"I wonder if you could try getting back into your body?"

"I cain't _see_-!" Vin snarled, frustration screaming through his tone.

"Now I know Ezra said you can't see it," Buck continued. "But I figure maybe if you lay on down on that blanket where _we_ know it is, even if you can't see it, maybe you'll … sort of … snap back in?"

For a long moment, neither of the others spoke, then Ezra met Vin's eyes. "It's worth a try," he commented.

Vin looked over at the blanket and swallowed heavily. "I dunno."

"What's to know? Just – lay down!"

Vin took a step forward, then backed up. "It don't look very comfortable."

Ezra's jaw dropped. "It looks _uncomfortable_? You're the one who sleeps on rocks without even a blanket, and you think _this_ looks uncomfortable?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, it looks _really_ uncomfortable."

"You're being absurd. Buck's suggestion is worth trying. Just—lie down on the blanket."

Vin shook his head slowly.

"Maybe it's not the discomfort of the ground, but of the body he doesn't see but on some levels knows is there," Josiah's deep voice rumbled from the far side of the fire.

Ezra glared up at the tracker, shifting around to see the others were also all staring at him expectantly, as though _he _could do something about this absurd situation. "Vin. It may look uncomfortable, but when have you ever let _comfort _stand in the way of duty? We need you to come back, and this may be the way to do it."

Reluctantly, the tracker edged forward and then, all at once, lay down on the blanket.

"Er. Your head should be at the other end," Ezra commented, then shivered at surreal double image of Vin sort of crawling through himself as he turned around. He winced in unnecessary sympathy as an ethereal knee went straight on through a place that ought never to be kneeled on, but then Vin was lying stiffly head turned to stare at Ezra.

"It's not working. Can I get up now?"

"No," he said. "Stay a moment. Turn your face up. And move you hand a little closer to me." He shook his head when his instructions were obeyed but there was still a double image, one Vin Tanner protruding sickeningly from the other. He struggled up, and Buck placed a hand on his chest, easing him back. He glared up at his friend. "Look, if we're going to give your idea a full chance, he has to line up completely. As the only one who can see both of him, it falls to me to make that happen. And for that, I have to get up!"

Buck glanced around, meeting Chris's eyes and then Nathan's, and then shrugged and carefully, gently, eased Ezra up and across the few feet, helping him kneel down next to Vin.

Ezra reached down for Vin's wrist, found his hand moving through it as the one he thought was real was actually incorporeal, and found the other just past it, pulling it out and adjusting it until he could only see one. Vin shifted a little, and Ezra glared at him. "Stay. Still." He took still fingers, and eased them free, placing each one with deliberation, and then shifted down to work on the near leg, Buck automatically helping as best he could, mostly just by supporting Ezra. A couple times he had Vin move to a position it was easier to match, but mostly Ezra just moved the unconscious body to match the spirit as he positioned the second leg and arm. Finally he moved behind Vin's head and gently straightened the neck and turned the face up so the closed eyes would be on his face if they were open, shut the mouth, and took stock of his work. A single body, head to toe, except the double image of open eyes floating on closed eyelids. "Close your eyes," he said softly, brushing a hand lightly over the face."

They closed, and he saw only one. "I don't know what else to do," he whispered.

"Well, it ain't workin'," Vin answered.

Ezra's sigh of defeat was lost under the whoops and cheers of the others. "You did it, you goddamn did it, Ezra!" Buck hollered, lifting him back to his feet—and then quickly setting him back down as the Southerner lost all color and failed to hold back a whimper of pain. "Damn, sorry! Sorry! But you did it! He's back."

"He is?" Ezra demanded.

"I am?" Vin asked in the same breath, sitting up straight—and he didn't leave another him behind lying down, Ezra saw dazedly. There was just the one. Vin's eyes skipped from one to the next of his companions, finding each one firmly focused on him, and finally landing on Chris. Even in the flickering light of the fire, Chris's relief and recognition were plain to read on his face. "I am," Vin breathed. "Y'all see me again."

"We see you," Chris promised.

"And now you're awake, I need you to drink this," Nathan added, pushing a tin cup into Vin's hand.

"Hell," Vin said. "Right now, I don't even mind drinkin' it."

"Nate?" Buck said softly.

"Yeah, Buck?" the healer answered, most of his attention still on Vin as he critically watched the man drain the cup with a grimace of distaste.

"Need yah here, Nate," Buck said. "Think Ezra burst his stitches, and he's out like a light."

Nate hurried over, helping Buck lay the gambler out. "Damn fool," he muttered. He froze suddenly, turning to Vin. "He ain't a ghost, too, now, is he?"

Vin stared back. "How the hell should I know? I ain't never seen spirits—not that I know of."

Nathan shrugged. "Good enough," he said. "Just—with you wakin' up and him immediately goin' down—it seemed a little—"

"It's not a curse or a fairy tale," Chris said. "Just fix the damn stitches!"

"Yeah? You want I should tell you how to shoot folks in the street?" Nathan demanded, continuing to mutter as he turned his full attention back to Ezra.

Ezra leaned his head back and smiled contentedly as the sun warmed him. It was his first day out of the confines of Nathan's clinic, and it felt good to be free. Good to have the others clustered around, just shooting the breeze as they pretended to be waiting for the stage they all knew wouldn't be there for a good hour. It was just too nice a day to be inside. He kept finding his gaze slipping to the others, though, each time he noticed someone on the street, double checking whether they were seen by the others as well. It was absurd. But… he still kept checking.

"Morning boys," Mary said cheerfully, standing in front of the newspaper office.

Ezra tipped his hat. "Mary," he said.

The conversation around him stilled. "But, Ezra," JD said softly. "There ain't nobody there…"

Ezra felt his blood run cold. Then he saw the jerking muscles marking hidden smiles, and he glared up at them. Knowing the game was up, they roared with laughter.

Ezra folded his arms over his stomach, the sun suddenly not seeming quite as warm.

"It ain't funny," Vin snarled and he looked over to see the tracker looking just as upset as he felt. "Ain't goddamn funny. Said it wouldn't be funny, and it ain't!"

"Ah, Vin, we're just foolin'," Buck said. "Told you we were gonna—"

"And I said then it wouldn't be funny," he said. "Shoulda stopped them," He added, looking down. "Sorry, Ezra."

Ezra looked up at him, and then around at the others whose humor was giving way to varying levels of confusion and repentance.

"Sorry, Ezra," Chris said, his tone serious. "Vin's right—we shouldn't have joked about it."

For a long moment, Ezra studied him, taking in the solemnity of the apology, and, finally, he nodded. "I'm sorry to ruin the joke," he said, hearing the stiffness in his tone but unable to suppress it entirely. "Perhaps the day will come when I will see the humor in it—but, please, gentlemen. Not for a good long time."

The others nodded and muttered their own apologies, and Ezra slowly felt the warmth of the day soak back into him. There were no ghosts on the streets. And if there were, he couldn't see them. And that was a state of affairs that he very much hoped would continue indefinitely into the future.


End file.
